by Brian Fuller
“And you knew about this?” she said.
“His first vision came on the plane,” Goliath explained. “If the AAO finds out, he’s going to be locked in a hole. I don’t think that’s what’s best for him.”
“Agreed,” Aclima said.
He sat up. “I’ve got to go.”
“What did you see?” Goliath asked.
“My brother,” he replied. “He’s in Chicago. I need one of those SWAT uniforms. Now.”
Chapter 21
Brother
Helo surged toward the door, but Goliath blocked him, putting her hand out. Aclima moved next to her as if to make the blockade even wider, her mouth set in a line.
“Wait, Helo,” Goliath said. “If this involves family, they’re not going to let you go. What did you see? Be quick.”
They weren’t going to stop him from going. Period. “I saw my brother shooting up a mall full of people. He was Possessed. Goliath, you’ve got to come with me. You can Exorcise him.”
“Do you know what mall?” Goliath asked. “How do you even know it’s in Chicago?”
“It’s the Water Tower mall,” he said, exasperated by the delay. They needed to go. “We went there once as kids. It’s only about five miles from the Red Line bus station where Aclima was this morning. But we’ve got to move. If we can get there before he gets inside, we can stop it.”
“Wait, Helo,” Goliath interrupted. “Were you in this vision?”
“No,” he answered. “What does that matter? I had the vision. It’s my brother. We need to capture him, save the people he’s about to kill. We can save him!”
“I know that, Helo!” Goliath said. “Look, we can’t—”
Her phone rang. She looked at the screen, and her eyes widened.
“Hold right there, Helo,” she said and then tapped the screen. “This is Goliath.”
After a lot of “yeses” and “okays,” she hung up.
“We’ve been called up,” she said. “Another Visionary had the same vision. We’re closest. This is a rapid deploy. Aclima, they want you to stay here since you’ll be . . . leaving . . . soon.”
“I’m going,” she said.
Goliath shook her head. “How did I know you were going to say that? You two are impossible.”
The SWAT van they rode in slid steadily through downtown’s traffic in the waning light of the day. Aclima sat across from him, giving him the kind of look one gives a friend before they die. An Ash Angel he didn’t know drove the van. In the back, Argyle, Goliath, and Aclima were on one side, everyone else on the other.
“Aclima shouldn’t be on this mission,” Faramir griped, catching his hand before it reached for a nonexistent hat.
“That is correct,” Argyle said. “Regulations state—”
“Drop it,” Goliath said. “I’m allowing it.”
“Well, let’s all look out for Helo. He’ll still do some cowboy thing,” Faramir said. “He can’t help it.”
“Shut your hole, Faramir,” Helo growled. “You’ve been running your mouth ever since Aclima and I joined this team. So get this straight: my brother is about to shoot up a mall full of people because Cain is trying to ruin him and my family. I am not going to sit on my ass back at base when my brother’s life is on the line. Show some respect, and for the love of all that’s holy, shut your mouth!”
Shujaa sat up. “The shooter is your brother?”
“Yep,” Helo admitted.
Argyle’s head whipped around. “Did you know about this, Goliath? He can’t be here! I thought the shooter was unidentified in the vision.”
Goliath opened her mouth, but Helo spoke, hoping to spare her the confession.
“I have the Visionary Bestowal,” Helo said. “I saw the vision too. And don’t even think about trying to stop me. It’s my brother.”
Faramir regarded him skeptically. “That Bestowal isn’t listed on your profile.”
“Nope,” he replied.
“This is really messed up,” Faramir lamented. “You really will be off the team.”
“I’ll miss you the most,” Helo shot back. Come dawn, he wouldn’t be on the team anyway. With any luck, he’d be ripping Cain’s heart out.
“Enough chatter,” Goliath said. “We’re almost there. Can’t form much of a plan until we’re on-site.”
“If he shoots, we kill him,” Shujaa said, voice a stone. “Sorry, Helo, but I will not hesitate, brother or no.”
“He’s a Possessed. He deserves a chance,” Helo said.
Shujaa’s hard expression didn’t waver.
“Let’s hope we get there first,” Goliath said.
“The time in the vision was ambiguous,” Argyle reminded them. “Unless you saw something different, Helo.”
“It was the same as the Occulum vision,” he said. “Just before my brother goes through the outer doors, I heard one of the employees by the door say it was almost closing time, which the Medius told us was seven.”
“It’s 6:42,” Faramir reported. “We might already be too late.”
“Driver!” Argyle barked. “How far out are we?”
“Three minutes,” he reported. “Maybe five.”
“Turn on the lights and siren,” Goliath ordered. “Real cops might see it and come running, but we’ve got to risk it. With any luck, we can snatch him off the street and exfil before anyone’s the wiser.”
The driver flipped on the lights and siren, thick traffic clogging the way. Helo checked his gear again, whispering, “Come on, come on, come on” under his breath. Timing was everything. If they could get there before he was set loose, this would all be over and his brother set right again. But as they neared the soaring tower and the entrance at its base, Helo went cold. Panicked people poured out of the store like rats out of a flooding basement.
No!
“We go hard,” Goliath said. “Get ready. I’m on point. Helo, Shujaa, flank. Argyle, Faramir, Aclima, bring up the rear. Aid anyone you see in need of attention.”
The van stopped, and Goliath threw open the rear doors. Helo sprang out of the van behind Goliath, screaming and the pop of gunfire raking his ears. The employee he had seen in his vision lay dead on the sidewalk in a pool of blood, shot through the neck.
Goliath didn’t bother with the doors, plowing right through the glass at a steady jog using her Strength. Helo followed her into the store where people ran through the racks of clothes, others cowering underneath them. Two more employees and a shopper were clearly dead in the middle of the walk, and a middle-aged woman leaned against the checkout counter clutching her belly while blood seeped out.
“Faramir,” Goliath said, pointing at the wounded woman.
Faramir peeled off. Another burst of gunfire sent them running through men’s wear and to the escalator. Brandon had gotten upstairs. More customers, some wounded, descended in panicked clumps on the other side while they pounded up the moving metallic stairs. At the top, a security guard with a hole in his forehead was sprawled out by a rack of women’s shirts. His brother had always been a good shot. The evil spirit hadn’t taken his accuracy from him, unfortunately.
Helo swallowed. This was bad. If only they had been faster! As they followed more shots to their left, they found more bodies, more wounded. And there he was, standing at an intersection of the walkway where it formed a Y.
Brandon.
Helo froze. The face was familiar but not. The sickening evil spirit hung from his back. His brother’s face was gaunt and gray, like some vampire had sucked the life and vitality from him. He had always been so strong and athletic, so confident and charming. But with the glowing red eyes of the evil spirit, he looked like something from a horror movie.
Brandon the Ghostpacker regarded them coldly. The hand gripping the Glock .45 dropped at their approach, pointing down to the spent shell casings glittering around him on the floor. The pocket of his light-knit gray hoodie sagged as if weighed down, and Helo guessed more clips were stored inside it.
His brother grinned maliciously at them for several moments. They kept their guns trained on him as they approached. How much of his brother was still in there? Could he still resist? Helo eyed Shujaa nervously. There was a chance to save Brandon here. Shujaa had to see that.
Helo put his gun down on the floor and pulled his helmet and goggles off. He raised his hands and walked forward slowly.
The evil spirit laughed. “You came for him personally!” it sneered. “So much the better. You know what he did to your wife, don’t you? She started it. She wanted him so bad. He told me all about it, you know. Delicious.”
A knife twisted in Helo’s gut. Was this true, or just another lie to torment him as a part of Cain’s plot to tear him apart? He shook it off. It didn’t matter now. “It’s all right, Brandon,” Helo said. “You can fight this. We can help you.”
The evil spirit put the gun to his own head—his brother’s head. “Stop right there.”
“Let him go,” Helo pleaded, pausing his advance. “It’s enough now. It’s done.”
“It’s never done,” it said. “Never. Not until every root is severed and every branch lopped off.”
The gun fired, the bullet ripping through Brandon’s skull. He collapsed to the floor, the evil spirit fading as Brandon’s life fled. Helo sank to his knees, unable to take his eyes off his brother, now lying in his own gore on the cold tile of a department store.
The world swirled. The bright, diffuse lights. The sounds of screams and sirens. His team talking. All of it unreal and muted. He could hardly tell what hands had taken him or who was guiding him down the escalator and across the floor. Red and blue flashing lights washed out his vision before Shujaa hauled him up into the van. Thirty seconds later they were gone. Aclima clutched his hand as he just stared blankly ahead, tears running down his face in a race for the floor.
His brother was gone.
There were so many memories, so many stories they shared. They had laughed together, pranked each other, fought like starving wolverines over shotgun in the car. They had hidden from their father’s anger together and competed at everything from watermelon-seed spitting to football to girls. They had shared stories of their military days on phone calls on the weekend.
And he was better at everything. A better athlete. A better brother. A better man. Had he slept with Terissa? Helo hoped not. He didn’t want to believe it, not now, not ever. Helo decided then and there never to ask Terissa, never to know. He would believe his brother innocent and never look back.
But one thing burned clear in his mind. Brandon would be avenged. Cain would end badly if it was the last thing he did. He had swapped hearts with Aclima to keep her out of Cain’s clutches. Now he couldn’t wait for the dawn. He would end Cain. He would do it or die trying.
He closed his eyes. His resolve dried his tears. Only now did he realize how deadly quiet the van was. The SWAT truck’s tires hummed over the pavement, jolts jostling their equipment. Even Faramir was quiet, not fiddling with his electronic devices like he usually did. They pulled into the alley behind the Goodwill Barn, and the truck rolled to a stop. Shujaa opened the rear doors. The sun had set, a single light by the rear utility entrance spilling inside.
“I need a word with Helo,” Goliath said. “Alone.”
Aclima squeezed his hand. “I’ll be inside. Come find me.”
He nodded and waited as the rest of the team filed out, the driver leaving the truck running as he stepped outside. Goliath sat on the bench opposite him, face subdued.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. But ever since I’ve known you, I’ve thought there’s something going on with you, something bigger than all of us. I don’t know what it is. I probably don’t need to know, but I just wanted to say that even though you and Aclima have been quite a sideshow, I think you are one of the most loyal, self-sacrificing people I have ever known.
“If there is anything I can do to find Aclima after the sun comes up, I will do it. But I can’t hide that you are a Visionary anymore. I hope you understand. I’ll fight like hell to keep you out of the Occulum, but I can’t guarantee anything. You’ll get through this, Helo. I think there’s more than one guardian angel looking out for you.”
“Thanks,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Sorry if you get in trouble on my account. If we all get through this, I promise I’ll be a good soldier.”
She patted his leg and stood. “Not too good, though. See you inside.”
Goliath hopped down, and he followed her out. She held the door open for him, but he waved her off, wanting a few moments to himself. The driver got back in, and the bogus SWAT truck pulled away. He paced the alley, the walls of the Goodwill Barn on one side and a cinderblock wall on the other separating the store from a vacant lot. A fitful breeze tugged at his hair, the sounds of the humming city calming his mind.
After a few minutes, he pulled off his tactical gear and sat on the concrete to the side of the utility door, trying to corral the hurt into some sort of fence that could contain it. While the world would believe what had happened was suicide, it was murder as cold and premeditated as any he had heard of. The even more terrifying question was what would Cain do next. Helo had no grandparents still living. He had two cousins somewhere. He had some Army buddies. Would Cain go that far?
To still his mind, Helo slipped into meditation, the mechanical mental task becoming second nature. Like whining children, his thoughts and emotions still wanted attention, breaking his concentration from time to time, but after several long minutes, he was able to hush them, and even the sounds of the wind and streets faded as he kept the silver ball whirring around the sun in an inky abyss.
“Helo.”
So deep in the trance had he gone, he hadn’t even heard Aclima come out the back door and sit beside him. Startled, he opened his eyes. The voices of pain were still there but muted. Aclima regarded him, eyes soft but face set. The dark poison still swirled around her body, reminding him she was facing her own trial—though unaware that she was perfectly safe.
“They want you in there for debrief,” she said.
He laughed bitterly. “I’m not going to do any stupid debrief right now. Do they know I’m a Visionary?”
“Yes,” Aclima said.
He put his head back against the wall. “I will not go sit around in a hole. I’ll leave the Ash Angels if I have to. I need to be out there. I suppose you were sent to drag me in there.”
“Yes,” she said, taking his hand. “But I’m more interested in helping you. What do you need?”
He thought for a moment. “A walk. I just want to walk. I don’t care where. Just around.”
Aclima stood and pulled him up. “I would like that. It’s about five hours until I fall into Cain’s hands. I’d like to spend my last hours as a free woman with you.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying to control his expression. It was still too early to tell her what he’d done. She couldn’t know until there was no chance he could be healed.
They rounded the back corner of the Goodwill Barn and headed out into the night. They traversed the parking lot in silence and then turned right onto the connecting road. It was dark, traffic sparse on the streets, but to Helo being out in the city felt good, like being a part of something real and familiar, somewhere out of the horror of his Ash Angel life.
“Tell me about your brother,” Aclima said. “What was he like?”
“Brandon was a stud,” Helo said. “You really would have liked him. I mean, everybody did. The ladies couldn’t keep their hands off him.” He swallowed, forcing the thought of Terissa and Brandon out of his head. “I mean, well, here’s a perfect example. I was ten and he was twelve. My parents liked to have a babysitter come over when they were gone because we had this reputation for destroying things when left to our own devices.
“Anyway, they get this sixteen-year-old girl. I’ll never forget her. Mandy Parker. Cute redhead. So the ent
ire night Brandon is chatting her up and flirting with her like he’s done it his whole life. I don’t know if he was born with it or watched a bunch of movies or what. And the weird thing is, she’s eating it up.
“So I go to the kitchen for a bit to eat a snack, and when I come back into the living room, he is kissing her! A twelve-year-old kissing this gorgeous high school girl. I don’t think I was even able to look a girl in the eye until I was sixteen, especially one I liked. But that was Brandon. Total confidence all the time. Man, how I wanted to be him! We fought at home, but he stuck up for me everywhere else. We drifted apart in our adult years a bit. Seeing him like that tonight . . . I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”
“Don’t remember him like he was in that mall today,” Aclima said. “That’s not who he was. When you think about him, remember the good. What’s a high point in his life, some time when you saw him at his happiest?”
It didn’t take long to come up with the memory. “When he won state in football. He was a senior, the quarterback. I was riding the pine as a sophomore. When the game was over, he was practically hovering over the field like the god of football. Dirty, grass stained, limping a bit, but just floating with a smile on his face so big you could see it from space. He was the man that night.”
Aclima smiled. “Then remember him like that. That’s what he would want, and that sounds more like who he really was. Was he as stubborn as you are?”
Helo chuckled. “Yes, but he was such a charmer no one thought he was. There was this one time . . .”
Through the night they wandered beneath the glow of streetlights, turning corners, heedless of where they went or what names were on the street signs. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they meandered in silence. Helo was surprised to see the sky beginning to lighten with the approach of day. Dawn was coming. His chance was coming.
Aclima stopped abruptly and tugged on his arm. He turned to face her. They had ended up in front of an old music store, guitars and drums sitting in the dark display windows.
“Helo,” she said, voice unsteady. She wiped one of her eyes. “I will not cry. Before I go, I wanted to thank you. I’ve met few men like you, especially when it comes to having a good heart.” She put her hand on his chest where his heart should have been. “Stay good. Please stay away from Cain, even if it means abandoning me. I am not worth the horror he will inflict upon you. Only God can save me now. I am actually going to try praying for once. Oh, how I wish I would have listened to you!”
